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    The Amber Isle: The Book of Never
    The Amber Isle: The Book of Never
    The Amber Isle: The Book of Never
    Ebook135 pages2 hours

    The Amber Isle: The Book of Never

    By Ashley Capes

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    About this ebook

    Adventure? Check.           Magic? Check.           Sarcasm? You bet.

    After years of running down dead-end clues, the rogue Never has nearly given up his quest for answers; his blood is cursed and his true name a mystery, yet no library, no healer and none who claim to know dark magics have ever been able to help.
     
    Until he steals a map to the mysterious Amber Isle, which might just hold the answers he needs.
     
    But Never isn't the only one who wants the map - an old enemy, Commander Harstas, also seeks it and Harstas craves revenge for the deaths of his men.
     
    Forced to flee through a war zone, Never soon stumbles across a group of treasure-hunters hoping to discover the wonders of the Amber Isle for themselves. But the deeper they venture into the Isle, the more deadly it grows.
     
    Trapped between the greed of the treasure hunters, cunning traps in the Isle itself, the threat of Harstas' fury and his own desperation to finally uncover answers, Never must find a way to unlock the Isle's ancient secrets and escape - or perish without ever learning the truth.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherClose-Up Books
    Release dateNov 18, 2017
    ISBN9780992553777
    The Amber Isle: The Book of Never
    Author

    Ashley Capes

    Hi, I'm Ashley, an Australian poet, novelist and teacher.I've been writing since before my teen years (as so many writers have) and started publishing in 2008, mostly in the poetry world. To date I've had six poetry collections published and released seven novels and novellas. When I'm not flat out writing, I tend to teach, usually Music Production, Media Studies and English. Teaching is a tough gig but it's meant to be - learning is a deeply complex process.Before teaching, I did a few other things - I played in a metal band, worked in an art gallery and slaved away at music retail. Aside from reading and writing, I love volleyball and Studio Ghibli – and Magnum PI, easily one of the greatest television shows ever made. I've also been enjoying Cowboy Bebop quite a lot.My first novel was an epic fantasy/adventure title called City of Masks, released by Snapping Turtle Books in 2014. We followed it with the second part of the trilogy, The Lost Mask the year after. The conclusion - Greatmask is forthcoming in 2016.In between I also released shorter novels The Fairy Wren, A Whisper of Leaves, Crossings and the beginning of 'The Book of Never' series, The Amber Isle.

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      Book preview

      The Amber Isle - Ashley Capes

      Australia

      Chapter 1.

      The drunk blocked most of the firelight in Petana’s only inn.

      He staggered over to Never’s table. The man’s breath preceded him and it was not pleasant – in fact, nothing about the slob was. Some manner of bug leapt in his lank hair and his teeth were green stumps. Red-rimmed eyes squinted down at Never. A rather sharp-looking butcher’s cleaver hung from the man’s belt.

      So much for getting a good night’s sleep somewhere warm.

      You’re sitting in my seat, stranger, the drunk said.

      Never lowered his cup. Good to know.

      The man blinked and a frown formed. He placed his knuckles on the scuffed table; Never glanced away. Half the patrons of the Petana inn were on their feet. Talk of war in the south, of how one of the village cows had gone to giving sour milk, of bad weather coming – all of it stopped. Never sighed inwardly. Don’t do it, fellow. Please. If things got out of hand, the man might die. And despite the drunk’s demeanour, Never didn’t truly want that.

      Futile.

      The man leant forward and the stench of his breath thickened the air. Somehow, it was worse than the capital’s sewers. It also seemed something had died on the front of his tunic. I said, you’re sitting in my seat. Move.

      I’m really quite comfortable here; how about we share?

      His brow furrowed. Perhaps the man was unable to comprehend what was happening, how someone could refuse him. No doubt he was used to getting his way. Or at the very least, to people getting out of his way. Some of them fainting probably.

      Custom would suggest you get angry now, Never offered.

      What?

      Why don’t you sweep my drink from the table? He smiled. Or you could roar something obscene, that’s always fun.

      The drunkard finally realised he was being toyed with. He growled as he reached for his blade, raising it level with his face so it caught light from one of the torches. It did look wicked. Last chance, funny-man.

      Never sighed. Another evening ruined – thanks to his own pig-headedness no doubt. Yet why couldn’t the drunk have chosen another time to stumble in? Just one night in a bed would have been enough.

      And now this wreck of a man had ruined it.

      One of the serving girls was gaping; spiced sausage and red peppers sliding to drip from her tray. Time to put an end to all the fuss. Never winked at her then whipped a knife free from beneath the table. He slapped the cleaver. The flat side of the weapon smacked the drunk in the face. The man blinked then dived forward with a growl.

      Never had already slipped from the seat.

      The slob crashed into the table, floundering and cursing. Never leapt onto the man’s back, eliciting a grunt, and grabbed a handful of greasy hair. He jerked the man’s head back with a grimace, placing his knife against an unshaven neck. Yet he did not draw blood; not if he could avoid it.

      You had to ruin things, didn’t you?

      What?

      Tell me, do you live here in the charming village of Petana then?

      Get off me, he gurgled.

      Don’t be a fool. Just tell me where you live and I’ll let you go. Never glanced over his shoulder. The rest of the inn was standing now, men with hands by their own weapons and women with wide eyes – all save one woman in a green cloak with hood, who merely watched, arms folded. Curious. He addressed the crowd, pitching his voice to carry. Worry not, good patrons, I will be swift. And because I’m feeling magnanimous – I won’t kill this poor wretch. He wrinkled his nose and leant closer to the drunk. Well, I probably won’t kill you, if you tell me where you live.

      He swore. Why would I do that?

      Never kept his voice low. Because you’ve laid waste to my plans so now I’m going to rob you when I leave – or perhaps I’ll kill you now and then rob you. You choose.

      To the Burning Graves below with you.

      Never inched the knife in, drawing blood – just a trickle, but it was enough; his own blood stirred in response, veins bulging. Damn it. Always the same. Never gritted his teeth. No. None of that today. Or any other day, ever again, if he could help it. Tell me.

      Lone house. East end of the village.

      Wonderful. Goodnight then. He switched his hold to lock the man’s head in the crook of his elbow and applied pressure until the fellow went limp. Never stood back, hesitated. No way was he wiping grease on his own clothing. He found a relatively clear patch on the back of the man’s tunic to clean his hand. Gods, did the fellow bathe in slime? Never collected his pack from the splinters of the table and turned to the assembled folk of Petana.

      Is he alive? The barman waved a skinny arm at a nearby patron. Check him, Juan. To Never he growled. You wait there.

      A dark-bearded man rushed to the drunk, eyes narrowed. Muttering swelled – an unpleasant music indeed. A few men held weapons – mostly scythes or knives drawn from beneath tan robes with multi-coloured stripes. If he was feeling ungenerous, Never had to admit that the Marlosi fondness for colour sometimes cast them as somewhat child-like.

      Irrational of him to think so, and there was certainly little child-like about their expressions. Or the steel they held.

      He breathes yet, Never said. He moved toward the door and the barman stepped over to intercept. Never shook his head, pulling his cloak open to reveal a row of knives.

      Gum’s alive, Juan announced.

      Fine, the barman said. Out with you then. Don’t want no trouble makers here anyway.

      A pleasure. Never strode from the common room and into the wind. The yellow glow from Petana’s windows didn’t penetrate too far into the night, and the dirt beneath his feet soon turned blue then black with shadow. Candlelight winked in about half of the homes he passed; the thatched rooves were unkempt hair touched with starlight, resting on squat heads thrusting up from the earth. The poetry of a village.

      He was a fool for letting his temper get the better of him. At least none had died.

      But Gum was still to pay for his belligerence.

      He passed no-one on the street, pausing once to wrestle his cloak from a strong gust, then slowed at the edge of the village. A stand of trees encircled the southern end of Petana, beyond which lay the dark road that hopefully led to the coastline, but no lone house...unless...there, right against the trees.

      A shack rather than a house, he decided upon reaching it. The roof was a nest of thatching; the door ajar. Never knelt in the entryway and removed the blue-stone from his pack. He rubbed it in his palms until warmth spread, a blue glow rising. Wonderful. He stood, took a breath and slipped inside.

      The shack reeked of old sweat and rotten food – even holding his breath it was a slap to the face. He sighed, switching to shallow breathing as he stepped over crumpled shirts on squeaking floorboards. The bed was a mound of...unpleasantness and the table featured a half-eaten meal on a broken plate. The pale-blue glow set congealed fat to glistening.

      Nothing yet.

      A second room looked to be a hasty addition, and held a tall, locked cupboard. Never set the blue-stone down and removed his lock picks from a vest pocket then set to work. The lock soon clicked.

      Inside lay a shining breastplate and helm inlaid with the charging stallion insignia of the Marlosa Empire. So the slob had a respectable past. How far he had fallen. Next, Never lifted a heavy dagger in an ornate sheath worked with a Hero’s Seal. He gave a soft whistle. The weapon would have personally been awarded to Gum by the Empress. Before she was driven from her city anyway. Never removed the blade. Beautiful condition. He took the dagger itself but replaced the sheath with a shake of the head. Whatever the drunk had done to earn such an honour, he deserved its memory at least.

      Especially when times for the Marlosi were destined to become harder still.

      Now for the stash of coin, Never murmured. Surely there was one somewhere. Moving back into the first room, he placed the blue-stone on the table and stepped over to the bed. If only he had a nice pair of gloves. He lifted the mattress, pushing it against the wall.

      A small pouch lay in the centre of the floor, its drawstring tied.

      He smiled. There you are.

      Light flickered and he spun, Gum’s knife in hand. A dark figure stood in the doorway, stars and the faint glow from the village behind, waiting just beyond the reach of his glowing stone. What are you doing? A woman’s voice.

      Never chuckled. Robbing the owner of this house, of course.

      No you’re not.

      No, I am. He bent without taking his eye from the figure and retrieved the pouch, untying it with one hand and emptying most of the coins into an inner pocket in his cloak. He grinned. See? Then he dropped the pouch back into position, which gave a sad clink.

      Put that back.

      "My dear, I could never do

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